Marrying the Major. Victoria Bylin

stepped up behind her. Wondering if he’d lost his mind, he touched her shoulder. “Caroline?” He deliberately left off the “Miss.”

      She startled like a deer, then faced him. “I’m sorry, Major. It’s just—”

      “I understand.”

      He could have been speaking to Dora, but his daughter wouldn’t have tried to be brave. She’d have reached to be picked up, fully expecting him to protect her. Caroline had no such expectation.

      Her doubt challenged him. “The river isn’t deep. I’m confident Cairo can handle it.”

      “Who’s Cairo?”

      “My horse.”

      She turned to look at the stallion. In the shadows of the canyon, his coat glistened black and his muscles were deeply defined. Poised and ready, the horse towered over Grandma.

      “He’s huge,” Caroline murmured. “And he looks fast.”

      “He’s practically a nag,” Tristan said, joking. “The old boy can barely walk.” He meant the horse, but she looked at him.

      Anger flared in her eyes. “You’re making fun of me.”

      “No,” he said gently. “I wanted to make you smile. You can be assured that you’ll be safe.”

      “I just don’t know.”

      “I do,” he said, deadpan. “No one disobeys me. Not even Cairo.”

      Jon laughed out loud. “Tell that to Dora.”

      “Well, yes,” he acknowledged. “Dora has a mind of her own.”

      “So do I.” Caroline squared her shoulders. “But there’s no choice.”

      She’d spoken the same words earlier, and it bothered him. He wanted to tell her there was always a choice, but he hadn’t chosen malaria. He hadn’t chosen to lose Molly. Sometimes, there was no choice but to accept the inevitable. Today, though, he had a choice to make. He could be a sympathetic friend or an unfeeling tyrant. Before Caroline could object, he took her hand and tugged her to Cairo. The horse stood with the expectation of royalty. Tristan took a peppermint from his pocket and offered it on his flat palm. Cairo took the treat, bobbing his head as he tasted the mint.

      Caroline laughed. “Your horse eats candy.”

      “Yes.” Tristan took another piece of peppermint from his pocket and handed it to her. “Hold it flat like I did.”

      “I couldn’t—”

      “Like this,” he said, unfolding her fingers.

      When she didn’t argue, he put the peppermint in her palm and held her hand under Cairo’s nose. The horse took the treat with the gentleness Tristan expected. More amazed than terrified, she turned to him. They were face-to-face, a breath apart. If he’d been a healthy man, he’d have wondered about kissing her. Not now, but later when he knew her better. But malaria had bent his life into a question mark. He could be gone in a week or a month … or he could live a long life. Looking at Caroline, he thought of his promise to Molly to remarry, and he imagined keeping it.

      Blushing, Caroline looked away. “Let’s go while I have the courage.”

      “Certainly.”

      Tristan pulled himself into the saddle, took the reins and guided Cairo to a flat boulder. Understanding his intention, she followed and climbed on the rock. He took his boot out of the stirrup and offered his hand. Nervous but determined, she placed her foot in the stirrup, grasped his fingers and looked into his eyes.

      “On the count of three,” he said. “One … two … three.”

      He pulled her up and over the horse. She landed with a plop and instinctively wrapped her arms around his waist, squeezing as if she’d never let go. For that moment, the malaria didn’t matter. Tristan felt strong and capable. He might not live to see another Christmas, but he could get Caroline safely across the river.

      “Are you ready?” he asked.

      “Yes, Major.”

      He’d have preferred to be called Tristan, but a barrier had to be maintained. With Caroline clinging to his waist, he nudged Cairo into the current. The horse plowed into the river until the water rose above his knees. Ripples splashed against Tristan’s thigh, and the hem of Caroline’s skirt became sodden. She was trembling against his back, struggling to breathe evenly and holding him like she’d never him go.

      “You’re doing wonderfully,” he said.

      “We’re halfway, aren’t we?”

      “Exactly.”

      They were dead center and in the deepest part of the river. Tristan looked up the canyon and saw a tree branch floating in their direction. He held Cairo back to let it pass, but the current aimed the branch straight at them. When Cairo sidestepped, Miss Bradley squeezed the breath out of him.

      “We’re fine,” he said gently. “Just hang on.”

      He nudged Cairo to take another step. The horse refused to budge. Looking down, Tristan saw a submerged tangle of limbs and leaves. It was caught on the horse’s hoof, and Cairo didn’t like it.

      Caroline trembled against his back. “Why aren’t we moving?”

      He thought of his boast that no one would dare disobey him. The stallion, it seemed, had decided to prove him wrong. Tristan would win this test of wills, but it would come at a cost. He put his hand over Caroline’s stiff fingers. “Cairo needs a little encouragement. I’m going to dig in my heels. I want you to be ready because he’s going to jump forward.”

      “Oh, no,” she whimpered.

      She held even tighter to his waist. Just before he nudged Cairo, the horse sidestepped again. The branch came with him and he started to rear. “Hang on,” Tristan called to her.

      He needed both hands to control the horse. Cairo whinnied in irritation, then reared up with the intention of stomping the branch. To Tristan’s dismay, Caroline slid off the horse in a tangle of skirts and petticoats. With a splash, she landed in the river.

       Chapter Four

      The water went over Caroline’s head with a whoosh. She couldn’t see or breathe. She could only feel the sudden cold and the current grabbing at her skirt. The stallion was bucking and stomping. If she didn’t get out of the river, she’d be pulled downstream or trampled. She tried to stand but stumbled because of the weight of her clothing.

      “Get back!” the major shouted.

      He had his hands full with the unruly horse. She didn’t know why it had bucked, but the medical case was slapping against its side. She had a horrible vision of it coming loose. Major Smith would lose the quinine, and she’d lose her only picture of Charles. Bracing against the sandy bottom, she pushed to her feet. She wanted to run for the shore, but if the case tore loose she’d go after it.

      Cairo reared back and whinnied. She half expected Major Smith to land in the river with her, but he moved gracefully with the horse, aligning his body with the stallion’s neck and back. Behind her she heard Jon sloshing toward them on Grandma. Being caught between two horses terrified her more than drowning, so she hoisted her skirts and ran downriver.

      She stumbled a dozen steps, tripped on her hem and went down again. Rocks pressed into her knees and she cried out. She kept her head above water, but her skirt was tangled around her legs. Seemingly out of nowhere, male hands gripped her arms and lifted her from the current.

      “Caroline.” She heard the major’s voice, the accent thick as he set her on her feet. “It’s all right. I’ve got you.”

      She felt the strength of his arms and the sureness of his stance. As he steadied her, she wiped her eyes with